The Art Of Meaning: The Elusive Why
I sit here on the deck overlooking my backyard trying to figure out why I should draw. Not what, but why.
I look at the tree by my studio and think, “yes, I could take the time to draw out all the values to represent the object soundly, but”, I ask myself, “why do it”. I know I can do it–I see in my mind’s eye the end result–but it seems pointless.
This is my struggle nowadays–where to go with my work. “I’m no designer” I think, “I’m a painter, a realist probably”, but I feel I want something more, more nuance maybe. Do I try to abstract things, do I try to distort?”
What slips mentally from my grasp is meaning, purpose, the “why”. Is it depression that wipes away my aim or is it something else? Is there a calling I fail to heed, a voice I have yet to find?
I know, I know, I know, that the only way to find “it” is to work. The way to meaning is by process–doing over and over again.
And deep down I think that the meaning will never be precise, it will always be developing, will always be in motion.
The key to producing is in the realization that what I am doing is important, has meaning, before I even know what that meaning is.